"I don't know. But they're coming this way, winding here and there,
wandering like Samdroo when he was lost in the Mirrored Mazes of
Gil-Ka-Ku, The Black One! Yes, they must be on the path!"
Green began feverishly tying the davit-ropes to the axles of the craft.
He sweated with anxiety and cursed when his fumbling fingers got in the
way of his haste. But the tying of the four bowknots actually took less
than a minute, in spite of the way time seemed to race past him.
That done he had to order off the yacht some of the women who had
climbed aboard. Only the women who had to take care of very small
infants and the older children were to be on that boat.
"Just who do you think is going to work the winch?" he barked at the
too-eager. "Now, jump to it!"
One of the women on the 'roller wailed, "Are you going to stay on the
island and leave us all alone on this 'roller in the midst of the
Xurdimur?"
"No," he answered, as calmly as possible. "We're going to lower you
to the ground. Then we're going back up the hill and shove the other
'rollers over the edge so that they can't be used by the savages to
come after us. We'll jump off and walk back to you."
Seeing that the women were still not convinced and softened by their
pitiable looks, he called to Grizquetr.
"Come down! And get on the boat!"
And when the boy had run down the slope and halted by his side,
breathing hard and looking up at him for his orders, Green said, "I'm
delegating you to guard these women and babies until we arrive. Okay?"
"Okay," said Grizquetr, grinning, his chest swelling because of the
importance of the duty. "I'm captain until you climb aboard, is that
it?"
"You're a captain and a good one too," said Green, slapping him lightly
on the shoulder. Then he ordered the winches turned until the 'roller
was hoisted into the air a few inches. As soon as the rusty machines
had groaningly fulfilled their functions he had the craft lowered over
the edge and down to the plain. The transition was smoothly made; the
yacht's wheels began turning; the nose lifted only slightly because
of the superior pull on the ropes tied to the bow; the stem ropes
were paid out a little to equalize the strain; then, obeying Green's
gesture, the women aboard it pulled at the bowknots, which untied
simultaneously. Not until then did he breathe a little easier, for if
one or more had refused to slip loose as swiftly as another, the craft
might have been pulled up on one side or dragged around by either end
and thus capsized.
For a few seconds he watched the 'roller slip away, coasting on its
momentum but headed at right angles to the direction of the island.
Then it had stopped, and it began to grow smaller as the island left it
behind. From it came the thin wailing of his daughter Paxi. It broke
the spell that momentarily held him. He began running up the slope,
shouting, "Follow me!"
Reaching the crest of the hill ahead of the others, he took time for a
glance through the woods. Sure enough, torches bobbed up and down and
flickered in and out as they passed between tree trunks. And there were
drums beating somewhere on the island.
Lady Luck shot out of the woods, leaped upon Green's knee, scaled his
shirt front and came to rest upon his shoulder. "Ah, you wandering
wench, you," he said, "I knew you couldn't stay away from my
irresistible charm, now could you?"
Lady Luck didn't reply but gazed anxiously at the forest.
"Never fear, my pretty little one," he said. "They'll not touch a hair
of my fine blond head. Nor a silky black one of yours."
By then the others, puffing and panting, had gained the top of the
hill. He set them to pushing on the stern of a yacht, and in a minute
they had sent it headlong down the hill. When it rushed over the edge
and disappeared with a crash on the plain below they had all they could
do to restrain their cheers. Small revenge for the suffering they'd
had to undergo. But it was something.
"Now for the other," said Green. "Then everybody run as if the demons
of Gil-Ka-Ku were on your tails!"
Grunting, they pushed the last 'roller up the little incline, then
gathered their strength for the final heave that would launch it, too,
upon its last voyage.
And at that moment some savages who'd been running ahead of the
torch-bearers burst out of the woods.
Green took one look and realized that they would get between the edge
of the island and his party. There were about ten of them; they not
only outnumbered his own force but were strong men against women. And
they had spears, whereas his people were armed mainly with cutlasses.
Green didn't waste any time in meditation. "Everybody aboard except
Miran and me!" he said loudly. "Don't argue! Get in! We're riding
through them! Lie flat on the deck!"
Screaming, the women scrambled over the low rail and onto the deck.
As soon as the last one was on, the Earthman and Miran put their
shoulders to the stern and pushed. For a second it looked as though
their combined strength would not be enough, as if the party should
have shoved the craft a little further over the lip of the hill before
stopping.
"There's not time to get them out again to help us!" panted Green. "Dig
in, Miran, get that fat into gear, shove, damn you, shove!"
It seemed to him that he was breaking his own collarbone under the
pressure and that he'd never felt such hard and cutting wood in all his
life. And it seemed that the 'roller was stubbornly refusing to move
until the cannibals arrived in time to save it, like the Marines. His
legs quivered, and his intestines, he was sure, were writhing about
like snakes, striking here and there against the wall of his belly,
seeking a weak place where they might erupt through into the open air
and leave this man who subjected them to such toil.
There was a shout from the warriors assembled below and a thud of their
feet as they charged up.
"Now or never!" shouted Green.
His face felt like one big blood vessel, and he was sure that he was
going to blow his top, literally. But the 'roller moved forward,
crept slowly, groaned--or was that he?--and began moving swiftly, too
swiftly, down the slope. Too swiftly, because he had to run after it,
grab the taffrail and haul himself over. And while he was doing that he
had to extend a hand to Miran, who wasn't as fast on his feet.
Fortunately Amra had presence of mind enough to grab Miran by the
shoulder of his shirt and help pull. Over the rail he came, crying out
in pain as his big stomach burned against the hard mahogany, but not
forgetting the bag of jewels clutched in his hand.
Lady Luck had already deserted her post on Green's shoulder when he
began pushing. Now she meowed softly and pressed against him, scared
at the shaking of the deck and the rumbling of the wheels as the craft
sped downhill.
He pulled her to him in the protection of the crook of his arm, and
reared up on his elbow to see what he could see. What he saw was a
spear flying straight at him. It shot by so close he fancied he could
feel the sharp edge of its blade graze him, and there was nothing
of his imagination about the woman's scream that rose immediately
afterward. It sounded so much like Amra that he was sure she'd been
hit; however, he had no time to turn and find out. An islander had
appeared by the side of the yacht, and as the deck was on a level with
his chest, the fellow could see them all easily enough. His arm flew
back, then leaped forward, and the spear he held darted straight at
Green.
No, not at him, but at Lady Luck. Another warrior, a little further
down the slope, screaming something, also thrust at the cat. Evidently
felines were no longer taboo upon this island. The former worshipers
considered that their totem had deserted them and therefore deserved
death.
Lady Luck, however, had the traditional nine lives. None of the razor
sharp blades came very close to her. And in the next few seconds the
savages were left howling upon the slope or lying unconscious on the
spot where the 'roller had struck them. The vessel sped down the steep
incline, bumped hard as it roared out upon the stone shelf, and flew
into the air. Green flattened himself out against the deck, hoping thus
to dampen the effect of the three-foot drop onto the plain.
Somehow he became separated from the deck, was floating in the air, and
saw the planks rushing up at him.
There was a brief interlude of darkness before Green awoke and realized
that the meeting of the deck and his face had done the latter no good
at all and might have resulted in considerable damage. He was sure
of it when he spit out his two front teeth. However, his pain was
overwhelmed in the rush of joy at having escaped. For the island was
retreating across the flat, moonlit Xurdimur while its inhabitants
screamed and jumped with fury and frustration on the rim, unable to
bring themselves to leap after the refugees. Home was where the island
was, and they weren't going to get left behind for the sake of revenge.
"I hope the Vings exterminate you tomorrow," muttered Green. Wearily
and painfully, he rose to his feet and surveyed what was left of the
Clan Effenycan. Amra was unhurt. If it was she who'd screamed when
the spear had passed over Green, she'd done it from fright. The spear
itself was sticking out from the base of the mast, its head half-buried
in the wood.
He climbed over the side and inspected the damage done by the
three-foot drop. One of the wheels had fallen off, and an axle was
bent. Shaking his head, he spoke to the others, "This roller is done
for. Let's start walking. We've a boat to catch."
23
Two weeks later the yacht was scudding along under a
twenty-mile-an-hour wind. It was high noon, and everybody except the
helmsmen, Amra and Miran was eating. They were lunching on steaks
carved from a _hoober_ which Green had shot from the deck and which had
been cooked on the fireplace placed under a hood immediately aft of the
small foredeck. There was no lack of food despite the fact that the
yacht had not been stocked. Fortunately the savages who'd owned it had
not bothered to remove the several pistols and the keg of powder and
sack of balls from its locker. With this Green killed enough deer and
_hoobers_ to keep everybody well fed. Amra supplemented their protein
diet with grass which her culinary art turned into a halfway decent
salad. At times, when they neared a grove of trees, Green would stop
the yacht. They would go foraging for berries and for a large plant
which could be beaten until soft, mixed with water, kneaded and baked
into a kind of bread.
Once, a grass cat dashed out from behind a tree, making straight for
Inzax. Green and Miran, both firing at the same time, crumpled it
within ten yards of the little blonde.
The grass cats, big cheetah-like creatures with long slim legs built
for running, were only a peril when the party left the yacht. Though
fully capable of leaping aboard when the 'roller was in movement, they
never did. Sometimes they might pace it for a mile or so, then they
would contemptuously walk away.
Green wished he could say the same for the dire dogs. These were almost
as large as the grass cats and ran in packs of from six to twelve.
Sinister-looking with their gray-and-black spotted coats, pointed
wolfish ears and massive jaws, they would run up to the very wheels,
howling and snapping with their monstrous yellow fangs. Then one would
be inspired with the idea of leaping aboard and finding out how the
occupants tasted. Up he would come, easily sailing over the railing.
Usually the occupants would discourage him with a well-placed thrust
from a spear or an amputating swing of a cutlass. Sometimes they
missed, and he would land on the deck, which enabled the sailors to try
again, with better success. Back over the rail his body would go, back
to his fellows, many of whom would stop the chase to devour their dead
comrade. Those who persisted in the hunt would then try their luck,
bounding upon the yacht, snarling hideously, trying to scare their
quarry into a complete paralysis and sometimes succeeding.
No lives were lost to the dire dogs, but almost everybody bore scars.
Only Lady Luck managed to stay unscathed. Every time she heard their
distant howling she scaled the mast and would not come down until the
danger was over.
Today they'd not been bothered. Everybody relaxed, chattering and
munching happily the unexciting but nutritious meat of the _hoober_.
Miran stood upon the foredeck, sighting at the sun through his
sextant. This also had been found in the locker, along with some charts
of the Xurdimur. Though the charts had had their locations marked in
an alphabet unknown to anybody aboard, Miran had been able to compare
them in his mind to the charts he'd left on the _Bird of Fortune_. He
had crossed out the foreign names and put in names in the Kilkrzan
alphabet. He'd done this only at the insistence of Green, who didn't
trust Miran to translate for him and wanted to be able to read the maps
himself. Not only that, he'd forced the fat merchant to teach both him
and Amra how to use the clumsy and complicated but fairly accurate
sextant.
A few days later, after Green and his wife had begun to study the
navigation instrument, there occurred the accident that forced Green
to take further measures to safeguard himself. He and Miran had been
standing at the stern, ready with their pistols while Amra steered
the yacht toward a group of _hoobers_. They were going through their
usual maneuver of running down a herd until the exhausted animals
could be overtaken. Just as they neared an orange-colored stallion,
galloping furiously, Green raised his pistol. At the same time he was
vaguely aware that Miran had also sighted but had stepped back, behind
and to one side of him. Sensitive about wasting any of the valuable
ammunition, Green had turned his head to warn Miran not to shoot
unless he, Green, missed. It was then that he saw the muzzle swerving
toward the back of his head. He ducked, fully expecting to get his
brains blown out before he could shout a warning. But Miran, seeing
his reaction, lowered the muzzle and puzzledly asked Green what he was
doing.
Green didn't answer. Instead he took the gun away from Miran's limp
grip and silently put it away in the locker. Neither he nor the
merchant ever referred to the incident, nor did Miran ask why he was
not permitted to take part in any shooting thereafter. That convinced
Green that the fellow had fully intended to shoot him. And then claim
to the others that it had been an accident.
To forestall any more attempts at "accidents" Green told Amra that if
he were to disappear some dark night, she was to see that a certain
person was shot and thrown overboard. He did not name the certain
person, but he mentioned his sex and as Miran was the only other man
on the yacht, there was no doubt about to whom he referred. Thereafter,
Miran was most cooperative, always smiling and joking. However,
Green caught him now and then with frowning brows and a thoughtful
expression. He was either fingering his stiletto or the bag of jewels
he carried inside his shirt. Green could imagine that he was planning
something for the day they reached Estorya.
Now, on this day two weeks after they'd left the island, Miran was
shooting the sun, and Green was waiting until he was through, so he
could check on him. If his calculations were correct the yacht should
be directly east of Estorya two hundred miles. If they maintained their
average rate of twenty-five miles an hour they'd reach the windbreak in
a little over eight hours.
The fat merchant quit looking through the eyepiece of his instrument
and walked to the cockpit where his charts and papers were. Green took
the sextant from him and made his own observations, then checked with
Miran in the narrow and crowded cockpit.
"We agree," said Green, indicating with the pencil tip a round scarlet
spot on the chart. "We should be sighting this island within four
hours."
"Yes," replied Miran. "That is an old landmark. It has been there a
hundred miles due east of Estorya since before my grandfather's time.
It was once a roaming island, but it long ago quit moving and has
stayed in that one spot. That is nothing unusual. Every captain knows
of these fixed islands scattered all over the Xurdimur, and every now
and then we have to add a new red mark to our charts because one of the
roamers has settled down."
He paused, then added a statement that set Green's heart to beating
fast.
"The unusual thing about this island is that it did not stop of its own
accord. It was halted by the magic of the Estoryans, and it has been
kept in that one place ever since by their magic."
"What do you mean?" asked Green, eagerly.
Miran's round, pale-blue eye stared at him blankly.
"What do you mean what do I mean? I mean just what I said, nothing
more."
"I mean, what magic did they contrive to halt this roamer?"
"Why, they put up certain peculiar towers in its path, and when the
island began going backwards to get out of the trap and go around it,
they moved other towers to block its retreat. These towers moved fast
on many well-greased wheels. Once the circle was completed the island
couldn't move. Nor has it been able to move since."
"These towers intrigue me. How did the Estoryans know how to halt these
islands? And if they've succeeded with one, why not with the others?"
"I do not know. Perhaps because the towers are huge and costly and
don't move too fast. Perhaps it is not worthwhile to the Estoryans to
capture many. As for their knowledge, I think they got it from their
ancestors. It was their great-great-great-and-then-some-grandfathers
who originally built Estorya in the middle of the plain and protected
it from being crushed by these islands by placing these many towers all
around their city. But it cost them much wood and time, and perhaps
they lost interest after that."
Miran indicated a castle inked in beside the red spot.
"That castle means that a military or naval fortification has been
built there on the island. It is the furtherest eastern garrison of the
Estoryans. When we come within sighting distance of it we are supposed
to report. Of course, if you wish to avoid it, we may sail to the north
or south and swing around it. But then we will have to report to the
windbreak master of the city itself, and they are rather hostile to
captains who have failed to have their papers checked at the fort of
Shimdoog. Even if the craft is such a small and weak one as this. The
Estoryans are a suspicious people."
Yes, thought Green, and I'll bet that you intend to inflate their
distrust with certain information about me.
He rose from the cockpit, and at the same time he heard Amra hail him
from her station at the helm.
"Island on the horizon," she said. "And many glittering white objects
placed before it."
Green refrained from comment. But he had a hard time concealing his
excitement, which grew with every turn of the wheels. He paced back and
forth, stopping now and then to shade his eyes and look long at the
white towers. Finally, as they got so near that he could no longer be
mistaken about their size or the details of their peculiar structure,
he could contain himself no longer.
He whooped with joy and kissed Amra on the cheek and danced around
and around the foredeck while the women stared with embarrassment and
concern and the children giggled, all wondering if he'd gone mad.
"Spaceships! Spaceships!" he howled in English. "Dozens of them! It
must be an expedition! I'm saved, saved! Spaceships, spaceships!"
24
They were a magnificent sight, those many cones pointing their
skyscraping noses upward and their spreading landing struts sinking
into the soft earth! Their white eternum metal gleamed in the sun,
dazzling the spectator who happened to catch their radiance full in the
eyes. They were glorious, embodying all the vast wisdom and skill of
the greatest civilization of the Galaxy.
No wonder, thought Green, that I dance and howl while these people look
at me as if I'm mad, and Amra, tears in her eyes, shakes her head and
says something to herself. What can they know of the meaning of those
splendors?
What, indeed?
"Hey," shouted Green, "Hey! Here I am! An Earthman! Maybe I look like
one of these barbarians, with my long hair and bushy beard and dirty
skin, but I'm not. I'm Alan Green, an Earthman!"
Of course, they couldn't have heard him at that distance, even if
somebody had been standing beneath the spaceships to hear him. But he
howled with sheer exuberance, not worrying about wasting his breath and
making himself hoarse.
Finally Amra interrupted him.
"What is the matter, Alan? Have you been bitten by the Green Bird of
Happiness, which sometimes flies over these plains? Or has the White
Bird of Terror nipped you while you slept last night upon the open
deck?"
Green paused and looked steadily at her. Could he tell her the truth,
now he was so near salvation? It was not that he was worried about her
or the others stopping him from making contact with the expedition.
Nothing could stop him now, he was sure of that.
It was just that he hesitated to tell her that he would be leaving her.
The idea of hurting her was agony to him.
He started to speak in English, caught himself, and switched to her
language. "Those vessels--they have brought my people from across the
space between the stars. I came to this world in just such a vessel,
a spaceroller, you might say. My ship crashed, and I was forced to
descend upon this--your--world. Then, I heard that another ship had
landed near Estorya and that King Raussmig had put the crew in prison
and was going to sacrifice them during the Festival of the Sun's Eye.
I had little time to get to Estorya before that happened, so I talked
Miran into taking me. That was why I left you, that...."
He trailed off because he did not understand the expression upon her
face. It was not the great hurt he'd expected, nor the wild fury he
thought might result from his explanation. If anything, she looked
pitying.
"Why, Alan, whatever are you talking about?"
He pointed at the line of spaceships.
"They're from Terra, my home planet."
"I don't understand what you mean by your home planet," she replied
still pityingly. "But those are not spaceships. Those are the towers
built by the Estoryans a thousand years ago."
"Wha-what do you mean?"
Stunned, he looked at them again. If those weren't starships he'd eat
the yacht's canvas. Yes, and the wheels, too.
Under the swift wind, the 'roller swept closer and closer while he
stood behind Amra and thought that he'd break into little pieces if his
tension didn't find some release.
Finally it did find an outlet. Tears welled in his eyes, and he choked.
His breast seemed as if it would swell up and burst.
How cleverly the ancient builders had fashioned those towers! The
landing struts, the big fins, the long sweeping lines ending in the
pointed nose, all must have been built with a spaceship as a model.
There was no escaping such a conclusion; coincidence couldn't explain
it.
Amra said, "Don't cry, Alan. Your people will think you weak. Captains
don't weep."
"This captain does," he replied, and he turned and walked the length of
the yacht to the stern and leaned over the taffrail where no one could
see him as he shook with sobs.
Presently he felt a hand upon his.
"Alan," she said gently. "Tell me the truth. If those had been ships on
which you could leave this world and travel into the skies, would you
have taken me along? Were you still thinking that I was not--not good
enough for you?"
"Let's not talk about it now," he said. "I can't. Besides, there are
too many people listening. Later, when everybody's asleep."
"All right, Alan."
She released his hand and left him alone, knowing that that was what
he wanted. Mentally, he thanked her for it, because he knew what it
was costing her to exercise restraint. At any other time, in a like
situation, she would have thrown something at him.
After he had calmed down somewhat he returned to the helm and took
over from Miran. From then on he was too busy to think much about his
disappointment. He had to report to the port officer and tell his
story, which took hours, for the officer called in the others to hear
his amazing tale. And they questioned Miran and Amra. Green anxiously
listened to the merchant's account, fearful that the fellow would
disclose his suspicions that Green was not what he claimed to be. If
Miran had any such intentions, however, he was saving them for their
arrival in Estorya itself.
The officers all agreed that they had heard many wonderful stories
from sailors but never anything to match this. They insisted upon
giving a banquet for Miran and Green. The result was that Green got
a much-needed and desired bath, hair cut and shave. But he also had
to endure a long feast in which he had to stuff himself to keep from
offending his hosts and also was forced to enter a drinking contest
with some of the younger blades of the post. His Vigilante could handle
enormous amounts of food and alcohol, so that Green appeared to the
soldiers to be something of a superman. At midnight the last officer
had dropped his head upon the table, dead drunk, and Green was able to
get up and go to his yacht.
Unfortunately he had to carry the fat merchant out on his shoulders.
Outside the banquet room he found a few rickshaw boys standing around
a fire, huddled together, waiting for a customer so drunk he wouldn't
fear thieves or ghosts. He gave one of them a coin and told him to
deliver Miran to the yacht.
"What about yourself, honored sir? Don't you wish to ride home, too?"
"Later," said Green, looking up past the fort and at the hills behind
it. "I intend to take a walk to clear my head."
Before the rickshaw men could question him further he plunged into the
darkness and began striding swiftly toward the highest peak upon the
island.
Two hours later he suddenly appeared in the moonlight-drenched
windbreak, walked past the many vessels tied down for the night and
crawled aboard his own yacht. A glance around the deck convinced him
that everybody was sleeping. He stepped softly past the prostrate forms
and lay down by Amra. Face up, his hands behind his head, he stared at
the moon, a thoughtful expression upon his face.